The Getaway
by nyla jean
Summary: How did Dean and Colette get out of his parents' barn? lol And how did they spend the rest of the week before that fateful trip to London/Bridget's return? Just filling in the gaps from season 1, still hoping for a season 2! Pls LMK how I'm doing!
1. Chapter 1

"You realize I can never come back here. How can I ever face your parents again?" Colette was half-kidding, half-serious. She tucked her face into Dean's shoulder as they stood by the barn door, getting ready to make an escape from his parents' farm after their after-lunch-and-past-dinner frolics in the hay.

Dean laughed. "We'll never come back," he said, not entirely joking after his father's behavior at lunch. He peeked his head out of the door and looked around the corner, then over at the dark house. All was quiet. "Come on, let's make a run for it."

They were giggling like a couple of teenagers, holding hands and running to the car in the darkness, trying to make a stealthy getaway.

When they made it into the car she ducked under the dash in an effort to hide and put a hand over her mouth muffle her laughter. He glanced over at her face glowing in the moonlight and lost all sense again.

"Go!" she laughed at him, wondering what was taking him so long to drive away.

"Just a minute," he said, and he hauled her up and kissed her. God, she was sweet. He didn't know how he'd waited so long to really kiss her, but now that he had he didn't want to stop.

When he started working his way down her neck, she playfully pushed him away. "We are going to get caught if you don't focus," she scolded, but there was amusement in her voice.

"I can't focus with you around," he confessed in her ear, raking his teeth over her earlobe. She shuddered from the sensation, then shoved him again. "Okay! Okay!" He winked at her as he started the car. "Let's get out of here."

After they were out of sight he turned on the lights, then after a few chilly minutes of driving he pulled over to put up the top.

"We made it," he said when he climbed back into the car and started it up again. But it wasn't the same teasing voice from earlier. He put his arm behind her on the back of the seat and pulled her close so she was flush against his side while he drove, and held her tight for a moment before relaxing.

She tilted her head to look at him, puzzled for a moment by his behavior and thinking his words were more than a comment about their hasty retreat from the farm, but he didn't elaborate and she didn't pry.

Instead she said, "I can't believe they didn't come looking for us. Earlier." And turned her gaze forward so he wouldn't see the blush creeping up her cheeks.

"I'm glad they didn't." She could hear the smile in his voice and she knew whatever he was thinking a moment ago had passed.

"Me, too." She leaned against him as he drove, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her. It was surreal to be with him this way; she supposed it was the only conclusion after they'd flirted shamelessly with each other for so long, and it was a relief in many ways to finally give in to her feelings for him. She let out a content sigh.

"So what are we doing tomorrow?" he asked, seemingly reading her mind.

She couldn't help but smile. "Sure of yourself, aren't you? What if I have plans?"

He scoffed. "You were suppose to be in London tomorrow. With me."

"And you think I would have been making plans with you there, too?" she teased.

"Of course. You can't stay away from me."

"Hmmmm. That's true," she admitted, thoughtfully. "But it's only because you seem to need me around all the time."

"I do," he said, serious this time.

She smiled in the darkness as they drove. "In that case, when we get back to the city, you can stay at my apartment. I'd hate for you to have to drive back to yours so late."

"That's very generous of you," he said. He was running the hand that had squeezed her so possessively just a few moments ago up her shoulder and along her neck. His hand paused as he swept his thumb back and forth over the back of her neck, much like he so often did over her fingers, and she felt her eyes roll back in her head and shivers run through her. Goose bumps spread over her skin.

"_Chair de poule_…" she muttered without thinking, just feeling.

"What was that?" Dean asked softly. He noticed the effect he was having on her and he reveled in it. She was so composed most of the time, that he felt a tug in his chest when that little bit of French slipped out and gave her away. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one affected by their contact.

"What?" Now she was the one losing focus. "Oh, I'll think some other things we can do over the next few days. Later…" she said, lazily, closing her eyes and melting into his touch.

Dean smiled. That sounded perfect to him. He didn't want to spend any time away from her, but he played back because it was so fun, and so easy with her. "Who's sure of herself now?"

She laughed. "I know. Take me to see Barefoot in the Park," she said. "It'll be romantic."

"I will," he promised. He would take her anywhere she wanted to go, do anything she wanted to do. He just wanted to be with her.


	2. Chapter 2

DAY 2

Colette blinked her eyes slowly. Something was different. And then it came rushing back. Dean. Yesterday at his parents' farm, the argument, the confessions, and then, making up in the barn. The getaway. She gave a slight laugh.

"Do you always wake up like that?" Dean sat down on the edge of the bed next to her.

"You'll have to find out," she said, a thinly veiled invitation. "How long have you been up?"

"Long enough to know that you have nothing to eat in your apartment," he said, running his hand along her side. He couldn't seem to stop touching her. He put his arms under her and pulled her up against his body.

"I wasn't expecting to be home this week, if you remember."

"I remember." He nuzzled her neck. "But I'm glad we are." She was still warm and sleepy and he was beginning to wonder why he got out of bed in the first place.

She walked her fingers up his chest, and followed them with her eyes until they rested just under his lips. "Mmmmm…" She murmured in agreement while she traced his lips lightly with her finger.

He inhaled sharply. "We'll get breakfast later."

…

She was lying on her stomach, tangled in the sheets and dozing, completely satisfied, with no intention of ever moving.

He looked at her and laughed. "Come on, I'm taking you to breakfast."

"I'm sure we've missed breakfast," she said, a dreamy smile on her lips, eyes still closed.

"Not my fault," he told her, "The French are insatiable."

She laughed. "Oh, sure, blame it on me." She languidly left her bed and put on a robe. Then she looked over at the man responsible for her weakness, in more meanings than the obvious one, and rubbed at her eyes with her fingertips so her hands would cover the blush creeping across her cheeks. "Give me a ten minutes."

"You don't need ten minutes. Come here," he took her hand from her face and led her out into her dining room. There were bagels and fruit on the table and he'd made coffee. And there in the center was a small bouquet of flowers.

He gave her one of his boyish smiles. "I snuck out while you were sleeping."

She looked at him with surprise and covered her heart with her hand, thinking it might burst, and trying to desperately maintain any kind of control over the situation, futile as it may be.

She returned his smile with one of her own. "Thank you," she said quietly. "It's perfect."


	3. Chapter 3

nyla's notes: while I was writing this I was listening to Fastball's "You're An Ocean" imagining that's how Dean was feeling about Colette. Just complete wonderment in a person and the way that person makes you feel. Here are a few lines that I found particularly relevant. Listen to the song if you have a few minutes and see if you agree.

"Can you make it easier for me to understand,

How you're holding my heart, in your trembling hands...

Make the warm winds circle round my head just like you do,

If I could do it, I'd be doing it to you,

I believe I'd buy whatever you would sell to me,

Nothing in my life ever came with a guarantee."

DAY 3

They were walking through Central Park. She was curious about something he'd said the other day and it was getting the better of her.

"What do I need to understand about your parents?" she asked finally.

He gave her a startled look, caught off-guard by the question but not overly surprised she'd asked.

"I don't talk to them much," he admitted after a long pause. "Though I'm sure you figured that out already. I would, but…" He shrugged.

"The life you want is not the one your dad wanted for you?" she offered.

"Yeah," he said. Then he stopped and looked at her. "How do you do that?" he asked, searching her face intently, like he was trying to see into her. "You know things without anyone saying a word. I don't need to tell you anything."

They'd stopped under a tree, and as the wind blew a few autumn leaves fell down around them. The way her hair was blowing reminded him of her on the runway in Haiti, her hair whipping around in the wind, and how one conversation with her could change everything. He'd seen it happen countless time, and not just with him.

"You can tell me anything," she said sincerely.

Looking at her Dean knew she meant it. And he wanted to tell her everything, especially when she looked at him with those eyes. He was caught up in her spell and he knew it. But considering his recent relationship disasters, he didn't dare tell her that, or that somehow over the past few months she'd gotten into his head and tied herself up in his heart in a way that he couldn't accurately verbalize. All he knew is that he couldn't imagine his life without her, and he was just waiting for her to let him know she felt the same way.

"I don't know everything," she said, because he was staring at her and not saying anything in response to her invitation and it was starting to make her a little uncomfortable. "You're not exactly as open as a book."

His face broke into a grin then because he loved when her French showed. "It's 'an open book,'" he told her, gently brushing the side of her face. "And for the record, neither are you."

"I answer your questions," she said, mockingly defensive, relieved to be back to their easy banter. "And lucky for you I do it in English." Then she proposed a truce and offered her hand. "I guess we both have some reading ahead of us…"

"I guess we do," he said and he kissed her hand in agreement before they continued walking. "About my parents…"

And he found himself telling her about growing up on the farm. About how he knew from the first time his dad took him up in the crop duster that his life had changed forever; how from that moment on all he wanted to do was fly. He told her how he felt like he'd disappointed his parents by leaving the family farm, but that he couldn't imagine doing anything differently. And so he and his family were at a stalemate of sorts. He told her things that he'd never told anybody else, and it was okay. There was more to know, and more to say, but it would come.


	4. Chapter 4

DAY 4/5

"Who was that?" Dean walked into the kitchen just as Colette was hanging up the phone.

"Maggie. They're back from London and she wanted to know if I was feeling better," she said giving him a pointed look. "And she invited me to debriefing."

"You should go," Dean said, leaning against the counter next to her.

"No, I thought we were going to make dinner."

"Go, have fun, and when you get back we'll have dinner."

"When I get back? From Maggie's?" she raised an eyebrow.

"We'll make breakfast." He gave her a kiss on the nose.

"And you're just going to stay here by yourself?" she waved her arm to mean her apartment. 

"You can come to my place," he said with a shrug. "Pack a bag and I'll take it with me. We'll be waiting for you when you're done." While the words came out easy, his heart was beating fast as he waited for her answer. They had spent every night since returning from his parents' together at her place, and he didn't want to go home to an empty apartment. He wanted her in his apartment in some kind of tangible form. A bag. Her things. Her smell.

She gave a little smile and looked down at the ground. He kept doing sweet things for her, and she knew she was going to lose herself completely if she wasn't careful. But she couldn't say no.

"Debriefing and breakfast it is," she said looking back up at him.

"Great. I can't wait to hear how their trip was," his said. Teasing was easy now that he had the relief of her answer.

"You have ulterior motives for sending me out, Captain?"

"Maggie and Captain Thorton? Of course. I'm sending you out for intel," he grinned as she rolled her eyes and started heading to the bedroom to pack her things. To prove his point he swatted her backside as she walked away and said, "Scoot, missy."

"Oh, very funny," she said, but she couldn't help laughing at Dean's impersonation of Captain Thorton.

…

She wasn't drunk when she showed up at Dean's apartment, but she was definitely tipsy.

"Hi," he said, when he opened the door and saw here there. He was very amused by her slightly mussed state. 

Colette gave him a lopsided smile. He looked so handsome, so adorably boyish and relaxed that she felt an adrenaline rush just looking at him.

"_Bonjour_," she replied with a tilt to her lips, and he pulled her in.

He barely closed the door behind them before he held up an envelope from the foyer table. "I went out and got something while you were gone. Tickets," he said, tapping them in his hand and giving her his adorable crinkly grin. "To Barefoot in the Park. You said you wanted to go."

She saw her name scrawled across the front of the envelope in his handwriting, and her face broke into a matching smile. She knew she smiled more often than not when he was around. He made her so ridiculously happy.

"You remembered."

"Of course. We'll have your requested date right before I whisk you off to London."

"Dean…" she started. She couldn't put together the words to let him know he was overwhelming her romantic heart, and he didn't give her a chance to think. He enveloped her with himself, his arms, his smell, his warmth, and she lost her train of thought.

"Colette," he whispered, before kissing her. He didn't want her to tell him to back off, to slow down. So he kissed her in the hopes that she would forget to be so careful around him and just remember how much she liked being with him. He wanted her to know how much he liked being with her. Hell, his heart started racing at the mere sight of her.

"Have I mentioned how much I like when you say my name?" He said into her ear when they pulled apart. "Dean…" he tried to get her accent and tone right and fail miserably.

She laughed and gave him a playful shake of her head. "Sad."

He shrugged. "Sounds much better when you say it."

"All you have to do is ask, _Monsieur_," she said with a flirty smile. "Dean," she raised her eyebrows at him, "Thank you very much for the tickets." She gave him a squeeze around his middle and a lingering kiss on his cheek to show her gratitude. She could have stayed there in his embrace and very happily carried on in that direction, but she remembered her assignment from earlier and gave a laugh.

"I have to tell you what we missed in London," she said, pulling him to the couch.

She told him Maggie and Laura's exaggerated stories of their latest London trip, from Laura spilling coffee on Captain Thorton and being recruited to help Ted with his love life, to Maggie running out of the hotel fire in her black bra in the chilly London night. She looked at him as they laughed and something inside her rushed open and ran free. She had been so excited to see him after the party. She knew that her carefully built walls were down, and she couldn't even convince herself it was just the alcohol and fun at Maggie's making her silly.

The massive crush she'd been harboring for months seemed downright girlish compared to what she felt for him now. She had fallen in love with him – completely, unquestionably and overwhelmingly in love with him. Still, she wasn't quite ready speak the words, so instead she leaned over and caught his lips with hers. The kiss started softly at first, just a gentle nip, then turned into a confession…

He hauled her up so she was straddling his lap, and wrapped his arms around her back to pull her closer. He recognized that this was more than a kiss, and he answered her kiss with one of his own, not teasing but intense and reverent, a confession of his own.

Just before the world started falling away around them, she took his hand and led him to his bed. There they were unhurried and deliberate, savoring each other and this unspoken but recognized all-encompassing emotion that took hold of them when they were together, that neither of them were expecting.

She'd think more about that and what it meant tomorrow… for now she was just happy and satisfied being with the man she loved.


	5. Chapter 5

Day 5

It was late morning when Dean woke up. Sunlight was streaming through the curtains making everything new and bright. He felt new and bright. He was happy. Really happy, and he knew the woman at his side was responsible. Playing hooky with Colette this week was better than anything he imagined, being with her made him happier than he'd ever imagined, and he planned to make the most of the two days they had left before returning to work.

Her sleeping face was turned toward him and she looked like a delicate porcelain doll lying in his bed. She was so beautiful it made his chest hurt. He wanted to wake up next to her every morning. He hesitated to touch her at first, but he couldn't resist running his thumb over her cheek, or placing a few kisses along her collarbone.

"Good morning," he said when her eyelashes fluttered opened. When he saw the dark pools of her eyes he felt a rush of affection. Serious affection. He knew he was in love with her, and after last night, he was certain she felt the same way about him.

She gave him a little sleepy smile. "_Bonjour, Capitaine."_

"Don't do that," he murmured into her neck.

"Do what?" she asked, shuddering as he continued his sweet assault on her skin.

"Use your French on me," he teased her. "I'm helpless against it."

She laughed. His head was moving lower and her eyes drifted closed again. She gave a little jump when he nipped her just above her left breast, then sighed and ran her hands through his hair as he kissed it better.

"What time is it?" She asked breathlessly.

"Past eleven. Why?"

"That late? Not much daylight left. We have to go," she said in a rush, laughing as she tried to worm away from him. He held her in place and gave a playful growl of protest.

"Where are we going?"

"Well we're going to miss it if you stay in bed all day!"

"Me? You were the one sleeping in," he reminded her.

She finally succeeded in breaking free, amused by his faux-hurt look, and pulled on his arm to bring him up with her. "Come on. We're going to need your car."

…

They drove upstate and had a picnic lunch by a pond where they could admire the changing fall colors and feed the ducks. She made him laugh cooing to the ducks in French and feigning sadness when they waddled away. He let her drive on the way home, because it was so much fun to watch her.

They returned to the city and had dinner at an Italian place by his apartment. They shared spaghetti and meatballs, glasses of Chianti, and brought back some Tiramisu to eat with a bottle of red he had at his apartment.

Dean was opening the wine while she was poking around in his living room looking for his record player. "I'm going to put on something fun I picked up in London," she'd told him.

He paused to watch her for a minute before carrying the glasses into the living room. He realized he spent a lot of time watching her. She was singing and bouncing along to the song that was playing and she was so incredibly enchanting that he hated to break the spell. He smiled at her and listened to the words of the song, realizing he could relate.

"What are you listening to?" he asked finally, coming into the room as _I Saw Her Standing There_ came to an end, thinking it was funny that his own heart "went boom" as he crossed the room to her.

She turned to face him, smiling. "It's the Beatles. Do you like them?"

"Yeah. But not as much as I like you," he put the glasses on the side table.

She shook her head and smiled at him. "Come listen with me." She pulled him down next to her on the couch and settled back against his chest.

"I've had a dance like that," he admitted as he ran his fingers up and down her arm and the record played on.

"Have you?"

"Mmmmm-hmm. In the streets of Paris."

"Why, Captain, I think you might be a romantic."

"The girl I danced with changed my life," he told her sincerely.

"The girl in that particular dance was a shoulder for you to cry on." She couldn't help herself. The idea of Bridget returning someday still made her nervous, even more so now that she was so in love with Dean. She had been trying very hard these past few days to not think about Bridget.

He hugged her tight against him. "At first, maybe. But what should have been the lowest moment of my life wasn't. Because of you," he admitted, brushing a kiss against the top of her head.

She turned to look at him. Bridget was in her mind now, refusing to exit quietly, and despite his sweet words she couldn't stop herself from protesting. "Dean, you were drunk and heartbroken."

He couldn't understand why she wouldn't accept what he was telling her. Then, he remembered how she reacted at his parents', and what she said about Bridget while they were arguing. There was no way to remember that dance without remembering their mission to track down Bridget. _Damn it_. He should have known; he needed to make it better.

"The timing wasn't the best," he said. "But that night with you changed things," he told her, willing her to understand.

"That entire night was about Bridget!" she insisted, riled now, and sat up out of his embrace. Her eyes looked a touch angry, but he could tell there was fear and uncertainty there, too, just as there had been before he kissed her the first time.

He looked at her intently for a moment, trying to figure out how to fix this. It was his history with Bridget that made her want to run from him he realized, and that was the last thing he wanted to happen.

"Fine," he said at last. "You don't want to believe me about that dance in Paris. But this is now. I've moved on." He stood up and took her hand, pulling her up. "We'll make a new dance memory," he said softly, collecting her in his arms. "With nobody in it but us."

He could feel her relax as they swayed together, much too slow for the music playing, but neither of them noticed. He ran his hands over her back soothingly, reassuring her.

She sighed. "Sorry," she said, her forehead against his chest. "I can't help it. I feel like I'm looking over my shoulder when I'm with you."

He realized this was a big admission for her. He tipped her head back so he could look in her eyes. "Don't. She's not here."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then just nodded. He leaned down and placed a light kiss on her lips.

"It's just us," he told her, and continued dancing with her there in his living room. He wasn't sure how long it would take for Bridget's shadow to stop hanging over them; he didn't like how it upset Colette. Even talking about Bridget wasn't an option at this point. Maybe after a few months she'd relax and they could talk about it and put Bridget completely behind them.

They moved to the music for a while, and he nuzzled her shoulder.

"I like dancing with you in the summer better," he said at last.

"Why is that?"

"I like when your shoulders are bare and I can feel your skin."

She gazed at him thoughtfully for a minute. It reminded him of the way he must have looked when he was thinking over the possibility of letting her fly the plane a couple of months ago. He could see the gears turning in her head. A smile touched his lips. She was up to something.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

She laughed, and he was relieved to hear the sound. "Just that Maggie isn't the only one with black in her wardrobe."

Then she did something he never would have expected: she took a step back, lifted her shirt up and over her head and tossed it onto the couch. She stepped back into his arms, wearing nothing but her black bra and black pants.

"Better?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes innocently.

It took him a moment to find his voice. "Yes," he said finally, burying his head in her bare shoulder and taking a deep breath. He never would have imagined this outcome basis their conversation of a few minutes ago. She was always surprising him. Damn, and she still smelled like Paris.


	6. Chapter 6

DAY 6

"I have to go home to get ready for our date," she told him after breakfast the next morning. "You can pick me up at my door."

"Romance, flowers, the whole deal?" he asked her with a smile, watching as she packed up her things.

"If you like. We never had a real first date."

"So, is this our first date, then?"

"It might be," she gave him a smile and slung her bag over her shoulder.

He walked her to the door. "I wonder if I'll get a kiss…" he teased, looking up at the ceiling, speculatively.

She laughed at him. "You'll get at kiss now," and leaned in for a quick-turned-lingering kiss. "_Au revoir_, Dean," he loved that she sounded a little breathless. That combined with the French nearly had him bringing her back inside. He laughed to himself. She made him feel like a teenager again.

She ran a hand down his cheek, her eyes sparkling. "Pick me up at six?"

"I might be early," he told her as he watched her walk away.

Back inside his apartment he saw the shirt she'd tossed off last night while they were dancing still on his couch. He thought about running after her to return it, but instead he held in close so he could smell her, then draped it over a chair in his bedroom with a smile. He hoped it was one of many things of hers that would end up in his apartment.

…

"Colette, you are beautiful," Dean said, a bit awestruck when she answered the door, the flowers in his hand forgotten. It was hard to believe they were already going to see Barefoot in the Park – it seemed like she had just mentioned it yesterday, driving home from his parents' farm. And now here she was a week later, a vision before him. All his.

She blushed at his words. She returned the compliment in French, with a kiss on the cheek, then translated with a smile. "You are very handsome, Dean," she winked at him when she said his name, knowing he had a fondness for hearing her say it.

"I mean it," he said. "No one is going to be watching the play."

"I doubt that." Then she added in a lower voice, "I had to wear a higher dress." She leaned over a bit and gave him a quick peek down the front of her dress. She had a love bite high on her left breast.

"Sorry?" he said, holding back a laugh, but he wasn't sorry at all. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Ready to go?"

…

The whole evening she was bursting to tell him that she'd found out the Beatles would be in England when they were, and that she wanted to take him to see them. But he'd brought up secrets as they were walking home and it was just too impossible to resist teasing him with a secret.

God, he was so fun, so charming and adorable. And he didn't seem to think they their relationship needed to be a secret, which both made her happy and nervous.

"Maybe I could tell the girls first," she said, as they walked hand-in-hand down the streets of New York.

"If that's what you want," he said. "Ted's been harassing me about you for a while. He might have already guessed on his own, what with us playing hooky and all."

"Harassing you?" she asked, her curiosity peeked.

"I may have had a crush on you for a while," he admitted with a smile.

She laughed. "I may have had one on you, too. And you're right. I'm pretty sure the girls knew about your crush, too. They've brought it up a couple of times. Teasing me."

He covered his face with his hands. "You are going to make me blush." He took her hand again and kissed it. "We may have given it away in Haiti."

"Maybe. I guess we don't have much of a secret after all," she admitted. "But we don't have to let all of operations know. Just our crew for now?"

"Whatever you want. It'll be fun sneaking around…" he raised his eyebrows suggestively at her and she gave him a playful little shove.

"I will expect professional behavior while in uniform, Captain Lowrey," she told him in a mock-stern voice.

"But out of uniform?"

"What is it they say?" she asked. "All's fair?"

…

They arrived at the door of her apartment. She unlocked it then turned to face him.

"Thank you for a very romantic evening," she said, and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Dean, we have a flight tomorrow. Shouldn't you go home and get some rest?"

"I can rest next to you," he insisted, closing the space between them.

"Is that what you call resting? And really, spending the night together on the first date… I'm shocked you would suggest it," she shook her head and tsked. "What would Sister Mary Catherine say if she saw me now?"

"I like the name Catherine," he said, thoughtfully, running his hands up and down her arms. "I might want to name our daughter that."

"Our daughter? Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "And, Dean, you know I…" she lowered her voice, "take a pill."

He smiled at her. "No guilt over birth control, but worried about spending the night together?"

"It's not Catholic guilt. It's a matter of practicality and responsibility verses… decorum," she defended.

Decorum. She was so sweet. And she was playing with him and he knew it. He smiled at her, his eyes lighting up, and he couldn't hold back the words anymore. He was going to tell her, right here in front of her door.

"Colette, you have to know, I l–"

"No, don't," she interrupted and placed a finger over his lips. "Let's have some time in the real world first." And then, to soften her command she looked into his eyes and held his hand to her chest so he could feel the rapid beating of her heart. "I know."

"So practical," he said, shaking his head at her, giving in to her request. What did it matter if he said the words today, tomorrow or next week? They knew how they felt about each other.

"Dean, this week has been like a honeymoon," she smiled. "Magical."

"You see? All the more reason for me to stay," he said, and before she knew what he was doing he had swept her up in his arms, opened the door and carried her inside. "We still have tonight to continue on with our… magic."

She couldn't help but laugh. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Ok, you win."

"I haven't even told you about my plans for London," he teased, closing the door with his foot and carrying her off to the bedroom.


End file.
